Theatre and Culture from Scotland, starring The List's Theatre Editor, his performance persona and occasional guest stars. Experimental writings, cod-academic critiques and all his opinions, stolen or original.

Friday, 26 September 2014

Arika 12, Episode 2 @ Tramway, 24–26 Feb

After a weekend of intellectual argument about the intrinsic horror of the universe – it's hostile, it's too big, and the individual self is either a delusional side-effect of human subconscious processes or a product of capitalism – Keiji Haino's vocal solo conjured up the deep dark in the most immediate manner. Tooled up with effect and loop pedals, he looped his wails and grunts and screams into a sound sculpture that suggested a black hole devouring innocent galaxies, a rotating hell of tormented souls or mysterious rituals straight out of H.P. Lovecraft.

Haino's music – he has spent the last forty years deconstructing rock bombast, defining 'noise music' and treating audiences to gigs that are in that bewildering space between intelligent, imaginative parodies and shrill, ear-drum shattering bullshit – is unashamedly aggressive. Episode 2's gig placed Haino next to artists like Meredith Monk, who use the voice not to sing lyrics but as a versatile, emotive instrument. But where Monk is often full of life and love, Heino sculpts sound into menacing, immersive shapes.

The previous night, Junko tried a similar trick. But where her screaming took the sound of a female in pain and turned it into an improvisation tool – with all the tricksy skill of a saxophonist on a free jam – Haino's intention is clear and brutal. Harsh growls attack his more melodic interludes – claps and breaths are warped into stabs and moans. Layering his voice through loop after loop, Haino builds towards his finale, a soundtrack that shared the scale, ambition and terror of a medieval depiction of hell.

Arika's new direction may be to ensure that work like this has a context – after 48 hours of constant banter about the positivity of nihilism, one man howling up a void makes perfect sense; or it may be to push certain ideas into wider circulation by associating them with well-known artists. Either way, Kaino's gig is devastating, suggesting that apocalyptic art did not disappear when we survived the millennium bug.

Absurd opinions, extended reviews, random press releases from The Arts, half baked ideas, unsuccessful experiments with the format of criticism. Brought to you by the host of The Vile Arts Radio Hour and former Theatre Editor of The Skinny, now working with The List